Job Seeker's Spirit

Some of the most powerful moments of my life happen when I am totally under stress and feel like I am about to explode. My biggest fear is not having a job because unlike most of my friends I don’t have folks who can take care of my bills. Living off a single parent with siblings hasn’t been the best setting and I doubt it ever is unless it is like a fairy-tale.

From what I have experienced job hunting is a daunting process for everyone. What beats me is when someone has the guts to say “Get me a job”. I never know how to react or how to honestly tell the person to grow up or man up. I can’t get over another friend who said the same impossible line to me and when I explained how unconnected I am he uttered vigorous expletives.

I just jogged my mind to June 2011 when nothing was going my way; I kept calm and made a plan. There were a few factors that had me in the doldrums (a) the agency I was with was being liquidated (b) finances were a mess (c) I needed food, shelter, tuition and to get by. At times I would just wake up and send about 50 applications and C.Vs to companies all over Gauteng and there would be nothing.

I decided to write this piece to give you an idea of stunts I’ve pulled to get a job. I don’t believe in this spending 24hrs on the internet looking for a job, I did it for about two months and I saw it fail me.  I had been looking for a job from March of the same year and nothing was popping until May. Needless to say, I became devastated and something had to happen. Sadly in the case of growing up, I had to be the catalyst.

About 400 (Fact: I counted) applications later I got an interview with an Advertising Agency in Fourways in Joburg – about 70km from my apartment in Hatfield. I didn’t know how I was going to do that, because I had a lease in Pretoria and if I got the job I would possibly have to source rent, deposit and all other nonsense fees to move into an apartment which could be about +/-R15000 for a new apartment in Jozi. Someone had to do it.

My interview was at 09h30 on a cold Tuesday morning. With my directions downloaded from Google and CV I made way to Joburg, I was not much of a fan of the city but at this point I didn’t have choice. Something had to happen.  I drove out of Pretoria at 07h15 after praying for a good hour. I had had such an intense conversation with God I don’t think he had a choice but to come with me to this one and not even send an angel, I needed the big Boss. That morning, India Arie even sound like a gospel artist. Through all of these I didn’t know my fate lied on the N1 just by the Old Johannesburg road, my throat still dries up every time I pass there.

 It was peak traffic and everything was at a standstill. 08h30. with an hour left and still on the same spot, my palms were sweating and I felt what felt like tears roll down my face, I was devastated. Firstly, I did not know my way around Johannesburg, secondly, I was only on R80 petrol budget for this trip (Please don’t ask me why I hadn’t switched off the engine in traffic).  Lastly, I was really hungry and shaky.

I didn’t want to call my mother or sister to share this frustration because I knew they wouldn’t believe I was genuinely ahead of time, women! Still want to know why I don’t have one? I had stopped keeping my eyes on the clock as every second of splintered time was now equivalent to what seemed like thirty heartbeats. At 09h00 I called the agency to explain my situation and informed the lady across the line that I would be there as soon as I could. My biggest fear at this point was to commit to time because of the unbelievable sea of cars that lay before me with engines off.

“Mr Mohale please be here by 11h00 because that is the only time I can make for you, I have other interviews to attend do.” She admonished from the other side of the line. I could not even explain further because my airtime had started reminding me of my broke state. I said my Okays and Goodbyes as fast as I could to avoid any embarrassments. I wouldn’t want her to think I hung up on her.

I snailed through the traffic and with the radio off because it seemed to make time go faster as Azania of Metro FM kept on mentioning time that morning. You’d swear she was sent from hell. I don’t know if she was just playing short songs only or my situation had made every ten minutes seem like a minute. At 10h10 I was still in Midrand and the traffic was not getting any better. At this point I was an emotional wreck and made a decision not to go.

Making the second call to cry about traffic would seem like a lie and I couldn’t afford to lose the little sanity and integrity I had left for myself. This moment was important to me; I did not care about the interview and for a second had forgotten how broke I was. Thanks to the stress the hunger was also gone. I just wanted to gather myself and go back to bed. I got over everything: life, job hunting and everything that had to be done. In the midst of all these as I was looking for the nearest off ramp to make a turn back to my place; the petrol light went on.  I didn’t care, I got over that too and made a decision to drive the bloody car to where it would stop and I would make plan from there.

My friend, Mpeo, called to find out how the interview went and I didn’t even know what to say to her. I didn’t have an answer but I knew I needed petrol money because I was not going to make it to my place. I asked her to EFT a R100 into my account and I couldn’t even commit to any reimbursements because I didn’t know when I’d be able to pay it back.  All I knew is I needed it. Fortunately my guardian angel helped. I made it to the garage and did that R80 petrol thing again; I needed to keep the R20 as my ad hoc saving. LOL

My dad had never been to middle school or varsity, but his respect for time and how he’d emphasise time to be invested no matter what always play in my mind. I had a day which pretty much was going to be a waste. When you hit rock bottom in life you calculate everything (a) the soap I used to bath (b) electricity I used to iron (c) petrol and time itself. I needed to find a way to recover all of these valuables; I had to claim my return on investment. LOL

I had sent hundreds of applications across the country and at this point I wanted to make my day count. Something had to happen. I had sent my CV to Vega School of Visual Communication for a post I had seen on bizcommunity and the day prior to this was the closing day for applications for that post. I made a decision again; drove to Vega with the aim of finding out about my application. I had to be my own hero at this point. He-man. All-man. A real beer – drinking, red – meat eating tough guy.

I was not worried about the embarrassment of getting there and being told to wait for a call or email. Even that too would make me better. It would be feedback and closure to a chapter. I got to Vega. The reception area was an upmarket setting with the receptionist working from a Mac. She was a young lady who looked at me sharply and it made me somewhat feel uncomfortable. It made me worry and I almost thought she could see how hungry I was. The place did not look like a tertiary institution at all, more like an advertising agency.

I did not have an appointment, did not know who to ask for and to make matters worse - didn’t know if they received my CV. All that mattered to me is I knew what I wanted, I needed a job. I asked the receptionist about the particular position I saw on Bizcommunity and wanted to find out if they had placed someone. Fortunately she knew about it but did not know if there was someone already. The thought of going back to my place with nothing churned my empty stomach. I confidently demanded to see the Human Resources Manager or whoever that is responsible for the particular division. A part of me hoped she’d say I would have to make an appointment, but the hungry part of me was determined to get into that office and tell whoever there was how hungry I was and needed a job.

She got up and went off to one of the offices where I heard her tell whoever that was in there about me. The door was half open so I could even hear man’s voice responding to her as she told him about this hungry lost soul. When she got back asking me to wait for the principal, I felt like I was anchored on the seat. The Principal title took me back to Lesotho High School; where the principal was someone you didn’t really want to see often. We either saw him (a) at assembly, (b) when you were going to get some ass whipping or (c) when you had to run away from him.

At this point I was not really sure what this place is about, I just knew it was a fancy school that had something to do with advertising, branding or photography. My heart was racing as my fingers maneuvered through my phone’s keypad trying to Google and see what the hell was happening here. I do not have a photographic memory, therefore I didn’t grasp much as my study methods include writing and rephrasing into my own words. You can imagine the turmoil I was going through. What had I done to myself?

Hardly five minutes later, there was a tall man walking towards me in the foyer. He could be the principle, I thought. He walked towards me with a contrived smile as he reached out his arm to shake my hand. I looked good, that much I know but I was really hungry. This was my moment to shine and I didn’t want to mess it up. I got up and shook his hand then he ushered me to his office. He asked if I would like to have something to drink and I mumbled coffee carefully because at this point my mind was about to force out the word ‘food’ out of my mouth. Ironically he didn’t even ask what I said and just asked the secretary to send coffee. But I still think I wasn’t audible enough.

His office was rather small for a principal’s office. I sat adjacent to him on his couches trying as hard as I can to be culture conscious and look him straight into the eye when he spoke to me. He was a kind person, seemed like a father, not meek but really kind. The minute he gave me the floor I fought for my hunger, I made use of the time he gave me. I felt strength coming out of me, sparks became fireworks, a nuclear explosion, and a supernova. I sold my brand.

At the end of the discussion he promised to call me, which was not bad. I left his office and was able to call my mom, I had feedback this time. An hour later I was called for an interview and I got the job and started a week later. Unfortunately I left the institution nine months later.

Now my friends, no one will get you a job. Please do something and get off the internet. Make a decision. Get your sales pitch ready and sell yourselves positively....fUn & ClAsS